Scars
by emilynoel11
Summary: "You're beautiful." He told him again, and Grantaire kissed every single one of Enjolras' scars until he believed him. Twoshot, Enjolras x Grantaire
1. Chapter 1

I own nothing.

Bon soir - good evening

* * *

Grantaire is just settling down with a sketchpad and charcoal when he hears the heavy knock on the door. He takes one look at Enjolras, writing, hunched over at the desk a few feet away, like he has been for the majority of the night, and quickly gets back to his feet.

"I'll get it," He says, even though this isn't his apartment, he knows that Enjolras is so absorbed in writing his next speech that he probably hadn't even heard the knock. His boyfriend makes a small hum of agreement, not looking up as he continues to write, the side of his hand covered in ink. The sight of it makes a warm, peaceful feeling ignite in his chest, and he has almost forgotten about the stranger at the door when the banging comes again, louder and more insistently.

"Coming!" He calls, setting down his art supplies as Enjolras finally lifts his head, looking a bit confused, a sentiment which Grantaire shares. While it wasn't unheard of for someone to come calling at Enjolras' apartment, it certainly didn't happen often. Most of the people who would want to speak with the man knew that he wasn't often home, that he was usually found at the university, the library, the Musain, out at a protest or doing something equally important, if he isn't spending all his free time with Grantaire, that is.

In fact, this had been one of the quietest nights they had had in a long time. The revolution meeting had gone well, and Enjolras had ended it a bit early, albeit reluctantly. Grantaire and he had gotten a quick dinner at a nearby cafe and they decided to head back to Enjolras' apartment for a bit, which was where they now found themselves.

Grantaire was still trying to get used to their relationship. For a long time, Enjolras had merely tolerated his presence, while he silently worshiped the man from afar, usually from the bottom of a bottle. He didn't know what changed, although he suspected Combeferre and Courfeyrac had something to do with it, but slowly Enjolras began to warm up to him. Just as slowly, Grantaire began drinking less and less, preferring to actually remember what Enjolras had said to him the night before. He was still usually found with a drink in his hand, but he refrained from getting _too_ drunk, especially since he and Enjolras had made it official.

This unorthodox relationship began a few months ago, thanks to the Les Amis. Although he wasn't sure, Grantaire suspected that it had been Courfeyrac who, tired of his excessive drinking and pining over the golden-haired man, had orchestrated the whole thing. All he knew for sure was that he and Enjolras had ended up alone one night at the Musain.

Enjolras had been under the impression that they were having another meeting for the revolution, and so had Grantaire, but the man didn't waste the chance he had been given. Even while Enjolras fumed and prepared to storm out, intent on finding the other Amis, Grantaire somehow (he still didn't understand exactly how he had managed it) convinced the man to join him for a few minutes. Those few minutes turned into a few hours, and the two men had parted ways with a different understanding of each other. After that night, Enjolras looked at him differently and treated him a bit more kindly.

About a week later, with a little help from Combeferre and Courfeyrac, he somehow worked up the courage to ask Enjolras to get some coffee. He had tried to be as smooth and subtle about it as possible, but to his immense shock and delight, Enjolras had glanced up with a knowing look, grabbed his coat and followed Grantaire out the door, leaving their two dumbstruck friends behind them.

Things had kind of simply fallen into place after that. Grantaire began drinking less, and paid more attention at the meetings, most of the time managing to keep his cynicism to himself. In return, Enjolras reigned in his own sharp tongue, and actually smiled at him and asked for his input a few times. They caught meals or cups of coffee together when they could, and slowly, ever so slowly, they began going on real dates when Enjolras could find the time away from his busy schedule.

One day, after this had been going on for a while, Grantaire finally asked Enjolras where this was going. He had been enjoying himself immensely, but at the same time, he worried that Enjolras only saw him as a project, someone he thought needed fixing. He asked if the other man wanted to be his boyfriend, and with a bit of hesitation, Enjolras said yes.

Their relationship was anything but typical. They fought often, over anything and everything, and more often than not, Enjolras was busy with school or work or plans for the revolution. Grantaire was cynical and didn't believe in much, while Enjolras simply burned with passion and a desire to change the world. They had to keep their relationship low-key in public, as it wasn't exactly considered _appropriate_ for two men to be romantically involved, but all the Amis knew and accepted them and they made it work.

Every spare moment they had was spent together. They shared most meals together, although oftentimes Grantaire would have to pull Enjolras away from whatever he was doing and force him to eat, because he knew that if he didn't stop the other man, he would keep pushing himself until his body gave out on him. Enjolras would meet him when he got off from work, or vice versa, and they would walk to the Musain and sit together, talking about whatever came to mind until the other Amis appeared.

They spent many nights together like this one, where Enjolras would sit at the desk and work on writing a speech or an essay or something all night. Grantaire would usually curl up in the chair on the other side of the room with a book. Sometimes they would talk, and other nights, like tonight, Grantaire would bring his art supplies and draw Enjolras when he wasn't looking. Sometimes he was just content to sit there and watch his boyfriend, the atmosphere warm and peaceful, until Enjolras would look up and catch him staring and then Grantaire wouldn't be able to resist getting up and kissing him.

They still kept separate apartments, although he secretly hoped that that would soon change. They didn't hold hands, didn't often talk about their feelings, and they had yet to move past anything more than kissing. Whenever their make-out sessions got too heated, too up-close and personal, he would feel the other man tense up and so he would back off. He had never spent the night, instead always making the short walk back to his nearby apartment (or vice versa, if Enjolras was over at his place). He often had to shake Enjolras awake from where he had fallen asleep in a book in order to put him to bed. But on the other hand, it was always Enjolras who would stagger home with him after he'd had too many drinks.

He knew that Enjolras cared about him, he just wasn't used to sharing his feelings with another person. Grantaire had had other serious relationships in the past, although nothing that lasted more than a few months at best, but he knew that this was Enjolras' first major relationship, and he didn't want to push the other man. He was aware of how long it took them just to get to this point, and he was content with what they had. He merely hoped that soon his golden-haired Apollo would trust him enough to open up to him and then they would be able to work past whatever was making him so hesitant.

The knocking came a third time. Shaking his head slightly to clear his head, Grantaire left the room. Expecting Combeferre, who would drop by occasionally, or one of the other Amis, he opened the door to a decidedly unexpected, and unfamiliar face.

"Bon soir, Monsieur." Grantaire said.

"Bon soir." The man said nothing else, merely eyed Grantaire and looked him from head to toe. He shifted his weight nervously, feeling more than a bit uncomfortable under the man's scrutiny. This strange man was a little taller than Grantaire, with short, graying blonde hair. He wore dark clothes that were obviously too high quality for most people in the area, making him look a bit out of place. His face was hard, his lips thin and white, but his eyes were the same colour as Enjolras'. In fact, once Grantaire realized this, he began noticing other little similarities between the man and his boyfriend. The awkward silence went on a moment too long, and Grantaire was about to open his mouth to speak when Enjolras emerged from his room.

"Grantaire, who's at the ... " Enjolras' question quickly tapered off when he saw who was standing in the doorway, making Grantaire look questioningly at him. His boyfriend's expression a second later sent chills down his spine. He watched as all traces of their earlier contentment melted away, all colour draining from his face, leaving it white as a ghost and smooth as marble. Grantaire watched his posture immediately straighten and stiffen, but it was Enjolras' eyes that shocked him the most. The man's usually expressive, fire-filled eyes suddenly lost their spark, growing dark and empty. Walls that Grantaire didn't even know Enjolras had were suddenly thrown up quicker than lightning and harder than stone.

"Father." Was all he said, his tone colder than Grantaire had ever heard him before. _Well, that explains why they look so similar._

"Enjolras." The man replied, just as stonily, stepping over the threshold of the doorway without being invited. He looked slowly around the apartment with a look of disgust on his face, as if he had never seen anything so repulsive, before his eyes landed on his son.

"What are you doing here?" Enjolras asked. He still hadn't moved from his spot across the room.

Although they had never really spoken about their parents, Grantaire had had the impression that his boyfriend didn't get along with his father. The man had never spoken about him, and his father had never visited before, at least while Grantaire was there (which was a lot, lately).

"I received word that you have become involved with someone, and came to see for myself," and at this his eyes flickered back to Grantaire.

"Father, this is my boyfriend, Grantaire. Grantaire, this is my father, Gérard Enjolras." Enjolras stonily introduced them.

"Pleasure to meet you, monsieur," He said, and would have put his hand out for the man to shake, but with the way Gérard was looking at him, he decided against it.

"I admit I expected something... better." The man looked at him like he was lower than dirt.

"Father, what do you really want?" Enjolras' voice seemed, if it was possible, to get even colder.

"I've come to tell you that this... relationship, whatever it is, simply cannot go on any longer. You've had your fun Enjolras, but it's time to grow up."

"Excuse me?" Grantaire growled when it appeared that his boyfriend was too frozen with shock to reply. Gérard barely spared him a glance, looking back to his son and ignoring the outburst.

"It's bad enough that you've started these silly little protests everywhere. You've made me the laughing stock of my peers, and certainly your little games will only end in failure, as always. I've let you do what you wish, thinking that you would surely come to your senses eventually. But this is something that simply cannot be tolerated. I could forgive a fling, Enjolras, but this has gone on far too long. If news of such an _appalling, unnatural _relationship became public, it would ruin the family name. It's simply disgusting. And you've chosen to do it with a dirty sewer rat, none-the-less." This time the man's angry eyes bore into Grantaire, making him feel small and subconscious under the power of his gaze. He was suddenly very aware of the well-worn, almost threadbare clothes he often wore, and his shoes that were nearly worn down to the soles. Was their relationship really so terrible? Would being with Grantaire truly ruin Enjolras' reputation? "If your mother could see you now, Enjolras, she would be mortified."

Enjolras looked like he had been struck.

This had gone on far too long.

"I think it's time for you to go." Grantaire said, barely managing to keep his anger in check. Gérard looked at him, then back at Enjolras, and, apparently realizing that his words weren't getting him anywhere, merely turned without another word and stalked out of the apartment.

Grantaire closed the door behind the man, turning slowly back to face his boyfriend.

"Enjolras, are you alright?" The man's eyes had fallen to the floor, his posture suddenly slumped.

"You don't actually believe anything he just said, do you?" He demanded. So many strange things had happened that night. He had never seen Enjolras this way before, and it was worrying him immensely. He had had no idea that his father was like that - if he had, he would have slammed the door as soon as he saw him.

"Grantaire, I think you should leave."

_Wait. _

_What?_

"Enjolras? " Had he done something wrong? Grantaire struggled to think. Should he not have kicked his father out? Or was Enjolras just taking his father's advice?

It was finally here. The moment Grantaire had been waiting for. _He's finally realized that I'm not good enough for him. _He knew it was coming, knew this relationship had been too good to be true. He just didn't understand how such a perfect night had ended so terribly.

"You're not, breaking up with me, are you?" He could barely spit the sentence out.

"Goodnight, Grantaire." Enjolras couldn't even meet his eyes, and for some reason, that cut him deeper than anything else.

For a long moment, Grantaire stood there silently, speechless and numb with shock. When he realized that Enjolras wasn't going to raise his head or say anything more, he slowly grabbed his jacket and headed to the door. Pausing, he looked back, but Enjolras hadn't moved, gave no sign that he wanted him to stay, so he left.

He never saw the tears glittering in Enjolras' eyes, never saw him slowly crumple to the floor, never heard the sobs that violently shook his body until he succumbed to sleep.

Instead, Grantaire went to the bar and ordered a drink. And another. And another. And another.


	2. Chapter 2

I own nothing.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed, I'm truly grateful and glad you liked it :) The ending is mostly shameless fluff. Also, please forgive me if Enjolras seems terribly out of character. He's just so hard to write!

Merci - thank you

Mon Dieu - my God

* * *

As the night wore on, the other Amis slowly left the Musain, one by one, until it was only Grantaire left alone at the bar. He sighed and ordered another drink.

"Actually, he's done for the night, merci," said a voice from behind him.

Turning slowly so that he didn't fall sideways off the stool, Grantaire was surprised to see Combeferre standing there. Usually it was En... well, it had been Courfeyrac or Bahorel lately.

"Whadaya want?" He slurred.

"I need to talk to you, but I need you to be sober." Combeferre said.

"Yeah, well, come back later," Grantaire said harshly.

He was just looking away, intent on getting that drink, when Combeferre's hand landed heavily on his shoulder, turning him forcefully back around. The same hand steadied him gently when he nearly fell off his chair. Grantaire stared stonily at him, but when it appeared that the man would not simply go away, he sighed in defeat.

Combeferre managed to help Grantaire back to his apartment, although it took far longer than it usually would. He guided the slightly shorter man to his bed, as by now he was barely awake. After that was accomplished, he quietly grabbed a random book from Grantaire's small collection, and settled down with it in the next room, intent on staying the night.

* * *

The next morning, Grantaire was rudely awoken by the sun streaming in through the open blinds, an insistent hand on his shoulder, and a familiar headache.

"Come on, Grantaire, get up already."

Groaning, Grantaire swatted the hands away and tried to roll over.

"Oh, non, you don't! It's time to get up. It's nearly eleven! I need to talk to you, and I've already waited all night."

_Combeferre._

Suddenly realizing what was going on, Grantaire's eyes flew open and he sat up, but immediately regretted it when the pounding in his head increased.

"Go away." He definitely was not whining.

"Here. You have two minutes. We need to talk." Combeferre handed him a steaming mug of coffee before leaving to wait in the other room.

Slowly, the memories of last night came back to him. It had been almost a week since the incident with Enjolras' father, and he had not seen nor talked to the man since. Grantaire had tried going back to the apartment the next day, but he hadn't received any answer to his knocking. Yesterday there had been a meeting, and it was the first time he had seen Enjolras since that night, but the man had ignored all of his attempts at conversation and avoided him as much as possible. He hadn't looked Grantaire's way once during his speech, and left immediately afterwards, giving him no chance to speak to the man. Feeling worse than he had all week, he decided that drinking himself into a stupor was a good idea, as usual. Then Combeferre had stopped him.

Sighing, Grantaire took a few large gulps of the hot, steaming liquid. Feeling slightly better, and used to dealing with hangovers as he was, he slowly got out of bed and dressed before going to meet Combeferre.

"You look terrible." Were the man's first words.

"Thanks, you too. Now what do you want?" Grantaire really didn't feel up to this right now.

"I want to talk about Enjolras."

"What about Enjolras?" He asked, making Combeferre glare at him. He really didn't know what the other man wanted from him. Combeferre was Enjolras' oldest friend, and if he wasn't talking to _him_, then there wasn't really anything Grantaire could do.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. I'm worried about him. We're _all_ worried about him. Last night was the first night anyone has seen him in five days. He even missed his class yesterday, which has never happened before. He's been holed up in his apartment and won't come out. It was a miracle he came to the meeting. He won't talk to me, and judging by the fact that you've managed to get yourself horridly drunk the past five days, he's not talking to you, either. Surely, there's something going on here, and I think you know what it is." Combeferre demanded.

It really was too early for this.

"Honestly, I don't know. All I know is that five nights ago, when I was at his apartment, his father showed up, and now he doesn't want to see me anymore." Grantaire said, watching as Combeferre suddenly went still and pale as a sheet. "Combeferre?"

"You said his father visited?"

"Yeah. I mean, I knew they didn't really get along, but I never realized he was such a _pleasant_ guy." He said sarcastically.

"This is serious, Grantaire. Tell me what happened." The tone of his voice and the look on Combeferre's face made him stop for a second.

"Okay, okay. Well, long story short, his father said that he had heard that Enjolras and I were dating. How he found out, I have no idea. Anyways, he basically wanted Enjolras to break it off with me. He told him how our relationship was _appalling_ and _unnatural_, and how he could do so much better than me, which Enjolras obviously took to heart, because after his father left, he told me to get out." He said quickly, trying not to sound too bitter. He had avoided thinking about the subject for the past few days, choosing instead to drown his sorrows, and saying it out loud to another person just made the hollow ache in his chest more prominent.

"Grantaire..." Combeferre sighed.

"No, it's alright. I mean, I knew it was only a matter of time. There was no way that Enjolras and I could last. He deserves so much better than me. I guess he just needed his father to help him realize that, too."

"Oh, mon Dieu, Grantaire!" Combeferre jumped up. "Trust me when I say you are not worthless. Enjolras cares about you, you fool. You need to talk to him."

"You think I haven't been trying? He obviously doesn't want to talk to me!"

"Well, try harder!" Combeferre sighed, looking conflicted. "Listen, there's a reason why seeing his father has affected Enjolras so much. I can't tell you what it is, he should tell you that himself. But I don't think he meant to hurt you, Grantaire. You need to talk to him. You need to get him to come to his senses."

"Why me? You're his closest friend. You've known him the longest!" He doubted that he could get anything out of the man that his friend couldn't.

"Yes, but he won't listen to me. He'll listen to you, Grantaire, he cares about you more than anyone."

"Yeah, well, he sure has a funny way of showing it." Grantaire realized at the last possible second that perhaps he was pushing Combeferre a bit too far, when the man grabbed him forcefully by the collar.

"Listen to me, Grantaire. You need to get over yourself for two seconds and go make sure that Enjolras is okay. I know you're both hurting right now, but ignoring each other the way you have been is not going to solve anything!" Apparently realizing what he was doing, Combeferre released his grip and stepped back quickly, muttering an apology.

"Non, it's alright. You're right. I'll talk to him." Grantaire relented.

"Thank you, mon ami." Combeferre said, looking at him gratefully. "Well, I've got to get to class. Don't give up on Enjolras just yet." Grabbing his bag, he quickly left the apartment.

He sighed. He was not looking forward to this.

* * *

"Enjolras, I know you're in there." He banged on the door later that day. "Let me in, we need to talk."

Waiting a few more minutes, he sighed and knocked loudly again when no one came to the door. He had been there for about half an hour, but had not received a reply. It would be getting late soon, but there was nowhere else he wanted to be.

"I will stand outside all day, if I have to. I'm not going anywhere. We are talking about this, Enjolras." He called through the door. Enjolras was stubborn, but Grantaire knew he could outlast him. He had waited months for Enjolras just to notice him, and he was not about to give up on the man without a fight.

He was about to knock again when the door suddenly swung open, revealing the golden-haired man, looking very unsettled. He appeared thinner than Grantaire remembered, and his eyes were dark and dull, their usual fire nowhere to be seen, dark shadows underneath them, which worried him more than anything else.

"What do you want, Grantaire?" Enjolras asked, and he sounded very weary.

"We need to talk."

"I suppose we do." The man sighed, but he moved aside so that Grantaire could slip past, closing the door quietly behind him. Grantaire was shocked at the state of the apartment. Enjolras usually kept his things very neat and tidy. He didn't like it when things were out of place, and yet now there were pieces of clothing lying everywhere, books taken from the shelves and left lying around haphazardly, pictures and other knickknacks tossed all around, bits of paper and random odds and ends all over the floor. He decided to stand rather than move everything in order to sit down.

Grantaire was the one to break the silence; now that he was finally here, alongside Enjolras, the words poured out of him in a rush.

"Enjolras, I don't want this, us, to be over. Your father was wrong the other night. Our relationship isn't disgusting or unnatural. In fact, being with you has felt more right than anything in my entire life. I'm sorry if me being with you brings shame upon your family. I'm sorry that I'm so pessimistic and don't believe in anything. I'm sorry that I'm just a dirty sewer rat from some back alley of Paris. I know that you deserve better than me, I know that, but I'm just not ready to give this up. Enjolras, I believe in youand I want to be with you. So please don't send me away. We can make this work. Please say that you'll try, that you want to be with me, too. If not, at least tell me, so that I know for sure that this is over, and I'll never bother you about it again." He stopped abruptly, worried that he had said too much. Looking down, wringing his hands, he waited for a reply, a demand for him to get out, anything.

"Say something already!" Grantaire spat, sick of this stifling silence. He looked up, afraid of what he would see, but was shocked to see Enjolras smiling at him.

"Why are you smiling?"

"Grantaire, how could you be so thickheaded?" Enjolras was almost laughing now, making him even more confused.

"What are you talking about?"

"Grantaire, you are not the problem. It doesn't matter what my father says about you. You are most certainly not a dirty sewer rat, and quite frankly, I don't care what any one else thinks about our relationship. I'm not going to give you up. I want you, Grantaire, and no one else." Enjolras said, and suddenly he could breathe again.

"If that's the case, then what's wrong? Why have you been stuck up here, avoiding me for five days?" Grantaire asked incredulously.

Enjolras looked away. "I didn't want to face you, Grantaire. After you saw my father, saw how weak I was..."

"What are you talking about?"

"Grantaire, there is a reason I do not talk about my father. Even after all these years, he still holds power over me."

"I don't understand..."

Enjolras sighed. "My father and I have never gotten along. Even when I was younger, our fights were legendary. However, the one and only thing we had in common was our love for my mother. She managed to smooth over most of our conflicts, and he would restrain himself around her. But she had always been frail and often ill, and when I was 15, she passed away. After her death, my father became a terrible drunk. All we did was fight, and eventually it became easier just not to talk. When he wanted something, he would send a servant or some one else to tell me. When we did see each other, most times, it ... did not end pleasantly. When I was 18, I moved out and decided to study law, which he was, of course, not supportive of. As you know, I moved here and took the job at the library in order to pay for my education. But even now, after not seeing him for many years, he is still able to wound me with his words. I was ashamed that you had to meet him, Grantaire, under such circumstances. I thought that you would be upset with me, angry that I did not defend you to him. I was afraid of telling you the truth, that you would be ashamed of me or pity me, so I sent you away."

There was a long moment of shock. His heart filled with love and affection for the strong, stupid, man in front of him. He couldn't control himself a moment longer, he abruptly got up, walked over, and kissed Enjolras hard on the lips. After a moment, he broke the kiss and said, "You fool, I could never be ashamed of you, or think you weak. It isn't your job to defend me, I can do that by myself. But I am sorry that you had to have a man such as him for a father, Enjolras."

"Grantaire..."

"Be quiet," He said, silencing the man with another kiss. This time it was returned, Enjolras' hands coming up to tangle themselves in Grantaire's hair. Grabbing the slimmer man's hips, he pulled Enjolras flush against his body. Enjolras moaned against his lips, but when he was about to go further, Grantaire felt his body unconsciously stiffen against him. His hands fell away, and he slowly broke the kiss. Enjolras' cheeks were flushed, and that familiar spark had appeared once again in his eyes, but something still didn't feel right.

"Why do you always do that? You say you want me, yet your body tells a different story." Grantaire said angrily.

Enjolras took a step back, looking away. "Grantaire, I..."

"Non, Enjolras, there's still something you're not telling me. If we're going to continue this relationship, there can't be any secrets."

There was a long moment of silence, and for a moment, Grantaire almost thought that Enjolras was going to send him away again, that all of this had been for nothing. But when the man finally turned back to him, his eyes blazed with his familiar fire.

"When my father used to get drunk, he would get violent. Often, he would simply throw his empty bottles at me if I was in the room. But other times, he would... he would beat me. I was younger then, not able to defend myself, and I couldn't tell anyone. My father is a very powerful man. Even if someone did believe me, he could certainly make them go away. I tried to avoid contact with him as much as I could, but I wasn't always able to, and many times his assaults left scars. I was afraid to show them to you..." Enjolras said, his voice breaking slightly, his eyes no longer meeting Grantaire's gaze.

"Look at me," he said, grabbing Enjolras' chin and tilting his head up so that he could look into his eyes, "I believe you. You didn't deserve that. He had no right to do that to you. I don't care what you look like. You're the strongest man I know, Enjolras." Suddenly a thought occurred to him, sending ice through his heart.

"So that's why you were so cold to me when we first met. I reminded you of your father."

"Yes."

"Enjolras, I..." Now it was Grantaire who couldn't meet the man's eyes.

"Non." Enjolras said firmly, making him glance back up. "I know what you're thinking, and don't. You are nothing like him, Grantaire. He is a terrible, violent drunk. While I admit, I was wary at first, you have never done me harm. You have proven yourself to be gentle, and loving, never pushing me farther than I wanted to go. You've also stopped drinking as much since we started dating, don't think I haven't noticed. That, alone, is something he would never do for me. So don't you ever think that you are anything like him." The man held his eyes until Grantaire smiled. Enjolras knew him too well. Not saying anything, he simply kissed the man again.

Continuing where they left off, they slowly drifted towards the bedroom. Enjolras fell back on the bed, breathing heavily. Grantaire stripped off his shirt, but when he turned back to his boyfriend, he could tell he was hesitant again.

"Do you trust me?" Grantaire asked. There was a moment of hesitation, but then Enjolras nodded firmly. Calmly, he went to remove Enjolras' shirt. The man tensed for a split second, then relaxed, and helped him get it over his head.

Anger choked him, bleeding his vision red.

_I'm going to kill that man._

The perfect, marble chest had been marred by scars. The worst one was on his shoulder, jagged and particularly larger than the rest, the skin only a few shades lighter than his natural skin tone. The rest of his skin was relatively unmarked, with smaller, darker scars dotted randomly across his body. Enjolras looked away in shame, but Grantaire didn't miss the tears that filled his eyes. Slowly, he unclenched his fists. Now was not the time for him to get carried away by his anger. He needed to be there for Enjolras.

"Oh, Enjolras. You're beautiful," he said, and he meant it. The scars didn't matter to him, merely proving to him once more how strong the man he loved was. Even with the marks, he was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

Joining Enjolras on the bed, Grantaire wiped the tears away and kissed him slowly, passionately, trying to put all of his love for the brave man in front of him into one kiss, which was happily returned.

"I love you," Grantaire breathed, making Enjolras look up at him, and he saw that same love shining in his eyes.

"I love you, too," Enjolras said, without hesitation, making Grantaire gasp.

"You're beautiful." He told him again, and Grantaire kissed every single one of Enjolras' scars until he believed him.


End file.
